


Fallin Free, You and Me

by writeyourownlifestory



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 1970's, Con Artists, F/M, Las Vegas, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2020-03-17
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23178724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writeyourownlifestory/pseuds/writeyourownlifestory
Summary: It could have been the con of the century. If only feelings didn't get in the way.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 3
Kudos: 45





	Fallin Free, You and Me

**Author's Note:**

> This is the result of a handful of TikToks I witnessed. Please check them out if you can! As far as I am aware this "70's con artist Reddie" has been created by @stevie.bones on TT and @derryfacts2 on Twitter, and @ottariwar's art au on Twitter, so definitely follow them if you don't already.

It started simply really. The truth was this wasn’t what Richie originally had in mind for himself. He wanted to be a comedian. Up on stage telling jokes like the funny man he is. Or so he liked to think of himself as. Of course, life never panned out the way people want it to or maybe Richie just isn’t that lucky.

Maybe Lady Luck had enough with Richie and was finally tired of the same old routine and dry humor? Maybe the old broad tossed him out on his ass in hopes of him finally waking up from the damn fever dream he had locked himself into. 

Richie didn’t know and he also didn’t have the time to dwell on such things. After all, a man could only survive on his good graces for so long. No no, Richie had to be smart about this, otherwise, he was back to help wanted ads. 

Richie wasn’t made to be a working man; he didn’t want to be a stiff just like his father who used to pull teeth and act like that wasn’t ripping people off. Richie Tozier was smarter than that and he proved that the moment he walked into Sunnyside Retirement home.

It started as volunteering. Bunch of oldies looking for a friendly face that would read to them and watch Gunsmoke. Someone who would sit down for a chat since their kids and grandkids were too busy with lives of their own to give a fuck about grandma and whatever boring fucking story she had to tell. 

Richie had enough charm in him to swindle a few old ladies, taking jewelry here and there. Now it wasn’t stealing. Oh no Richie Tozier wasn’t some common thief! Anything that went into his pocket was given to him properly. Handed over by the grace of God, out of the goodness of their hearts. 

Sure maybe Richie stretched the truth here if there. Maybe he saw a pair of ruby earrings and told the dame that they reminded him of the kind his great aunt Ruby who used to read to him used to wear. Or maybe it was a pearl necklace that his sweet nonna wore every single Sunday to church. Or maybe it was a diamond ring passed on through generations that his mother gave to his trifling sister who gave it away to some bastard kid. 

The ladies were happy to put a smile on his face and he was happy to do the same. Into his pockets, the jewelry would go with the promise to take care of it always. And Richie kept that promise. He always took good care of it as he walked down the street and into the local pawn shop where he’d sell the goods for some hard-earned cash. 

Sometimes he’d use it for goods. Take care of the rent of his apartment. He had been saving up to buy a car. He got a really sweet deal on some tinted prescription sunglasses. Sometimes he’d even give it back in the form of flowers or candy for the ladies who could still smell and use their teeth.

Or other times he’d take it to his own personal playground. 

Vegas was a dangerous place if you didn’t know how to handle yourself. Richie had been burnt in the past but he had grown as a man and a gambler and knew when he had to stop. He wasn’t going to wind up being chased by a loan shark. At least not again. 

He’d play until his chips grew thin or if he knew he wouldn’t be getting back to the retirement home until the following week. 

He’d work the slots but they always bored him. Richie wanted some real action. Something good and grand. He lived for the action and there was no better way to do that than to hit the card tables. 

He had played it all. Blackjack, craps, and baccarat just to name a few but it was the poker table that caught his attention time and time again. He wasn’t the best around but now and then he’d get a decent hand and at least be able to break even. 

It had been on one fateful night that Richie finally thought his luck was coming around. There was a poor sap at the table who looked just miserable. 

The poor bastard was dressed in a wrinkled polo shirt and had even more wrinkles on his face. He had a half-empty glass of bourbon by his side and a frown that went so far down Richie was worried his jaw might fall off. 

Poor bastard was losing hand after hand, but he refused to give in. He offered up his watch at one point just to stay in the game. Richie felt bad for the poor guy. 

Eventually, it got down to just a few of them at the table. Richie was across from the pale fella, who was staring down at his cards and looking like he was able to vomit at the sight of it. 

“You sure you wanna do that?” He asked, watching the guy toss his wedding ring into the mix. 

The silver band rolled into the pile of chips, which was just adding up as the guy continued to egg the others on. 

“I’m getting divorced. I have nothing else to lose.” He admitted somberly. 

He wasn’t drinking enough for Richie to think the guy was drowning his sorrows in alcohol, and he didn’t seem like the type that had an addiction to the win. Richie knew guys like that. Shoot he used to be one of those guys. 

The scrawny fella here wasn’t one of them. He was just down on his luck and needed something to brighten his day. 

Richie won the next hand, prompting the others to bail out after he took all their chips.

“You sure you don’t want this back?” Richie asked as he held the ring up. 

“One more hand. I’ll play you for it. For all of it.” 

“You got no chips left man. Just take the ring as a parting gift.” Divorced or not, Richie wasn’t a monster. He wouldn’t leave the poor schmuck to get his hide torn off by his soon to be ex-wife all because of his gambling issue. 

The guy swallowed hard, digging around in his pockets for a moment before slamming something down onto the table. It was a pair of keys. Car keys to be exact. Richie knew that key all too well as he had been researching that car for some time. 

Richie wondered what the hell it was this guy did for work that he could afford a Camaro. Maybe he was a banker. The boring clothing looked like a guy who knew business and books. Maybe a Wall Street suit just trying to escape the messy divorce. 

Richie wouldn’t have been stupid to turn that down. He tossed the ring and the rest of his chips back into the pile. Nothing would be more pleasing to Richie than to drive back to his dingy little motel room in a car like that. 

And just like the hand of God the Wall Street guy slapped all Hope from his hands and finished the game off with a royal flush. The fella offered a shy smile to him as he collected all the chips, his keys, his watch and then finally his ring. 

“Guess I finally got lucky.” He mentioned sliding the ring onto his finger. 

Richie left the table empty-handed but not before catching the winner, finishing his glass and telling the dealer he’d see him later. Normally it wouldn’t be anything wild but when he heard Mike namedrop him, Richie knew something fishy was going on. 

He caught up with him by the valet not long after. He had been watching him for a bit, stacking out the area until he cashed out and finally left. 

He grabbed him before anyone could see, turning the corner and pushing him against the wall, hiding them both in the shadows. It was easy enough. The guy was shorter than him, easy to tuck into Richie’s side, keeping him out of sight, so if anybody saw it, he was more or less giving off the appearance that he was talking to himself. 

And nobody wanted to interact with a weirdo like that. 

“Ya pretty slick you know that? Playing the kicked puppy card so people think they can take advantage.” 

“Worked for you didn’t it?” The guy asked, squirming under Richie’s hold. 

“So what you and Mike got a thing going? He tells you when it's a good time to do the whole reveal?” 

“Something like that,” He muttered, still struggling to break free. 

Richie held on a little tighter, just to show he could. “Could get you both in a lot of trouble if the big guys upstairs found out.” 

The guy narrowed his eyes then, pausing as he tried to figure out what it was Richie wanted out of his. “How much?” 

As it turned out it only cost him a few hours of his time and a couple of cups of coffee at a diner in town. Richie had no plans of eating him out but he at least wanted to know how he got away with it. 

“Mike is full time. He knows who is desperate for a win and who will walk away easily. I play my part as a constant loser until the right man came along.”

“Guess I’m your man Eds,” Richie mentioned, reveling in the fact that he got hooked onto it so easily. “You really getting divorced?” 

“Already got it. Couple of years ago.” Eddie looked at the silver band on his finger, smiling thinly at it. “I just keep this to fit the profile. Overworked gambler on the brink of a breakdown.” 

“A role you were born to play.” Richie acknowledged. He sat up in the booth then, knocking his knuckles onto the table to get his attention. “I want in.” He decided. “Except I want something bigger.” 

Eddie drummed his fingers against the table, watching the other man carefully. “I’m listening.”

Something bigger turned into something better. After a few short weeks, Eddie and Richie worked their way up the dwindling ladder, leaving behind a trail of suckers in their waste until they decided to leave the little shit behind and move in for something that would line their pockets. 

A speakeasy wasn’t all the rage these days but then again things come and go often enough into fashion that Richie didn’t mind dipping his toes into the water. 

They found a neat little place in a location that was easy to find through the actual building that was tucked away in the corner. Eddie used his connections and for them a liquor license and before long they were stocking up the place with jugs of something strong and fancy people that liked to have a good time. 

Partnering with Eddie had been the best choice of his life. He had been right about one thing: Eddie was a Wall Street mogul or at least had been. He had been a risk analyzer or something like that. He quit the biz after leaving the wife but he stayed in good graces with a few of his former clients. 

One of which happened to be an accountant named Stanley that joined in on their little project. He was a smart guy who knew his numbers and skimmed a little bit off the top of all of his clients' accounts. He called it insurance. Richie called it genius. 

Stanley kept hold of their books when they opened the bar and for a short while it was good but Richie began having that itchy feeling again. The desire to just go out and do something. He knew he’d never fly straight in any sense of the word and he was glad to see Eddie wasn’t far behind him. 

“I want more than peddling watered-down gin and salty peanuts.” He complained one afternoon while the two were out to lunch. 

They went out often, just the two of them. They’d hit the town wearing their best, winking to the ladies as they crossed the street. Gone was the wrinkled polos and frown lines. Eddie bloomed upon their partnership, choosing clothes that flattered him and tinted glasses that framed his face, as well as Richie’s, did. 

They both looked too good for their own right and Richie blames that solely in their influences on each other.

“Do you have any other ideas?”

Eddie wasn’t a moron. There has been plenty of suggestions that Richie had given that the shorter male shut up upon hearing. But it was the fact that he actually listened and allowed Richie to try and explain the possibility, that was what mattered.

Eddie was always willing to hear Richie’s schemes even if they were absolute garbage. 

The issue was Richie didn’t have any ideas. He longed for more but he had no ways to articulate what it was he wanted. He just wanted...more. 

Richie remained in a funk the rest of the day, as they walked down the street, back to the gorgeous car that Eddie refused to let him drive. Even today when he was depressed, Eddie refused to put the top down and allow them to enjoy themselves. 

They walked into the lobby of their suite. One little side hustle they had figured out was how to nab hotel suites for extended periods. It would usually involve a handful of phone calls using several of the choices Richie could make, some various flirting with the counter girl on both their parts and some well-mannered connections that Eddie had with several different managers and concierges throughout a good number of hotels. 

“Come on, Rich. I’m sure you’ll come up with something.” Eddie commented as they walked through the lobby. “Listen, why don’t I call up Mike? Well hit the craps tables tonight and see if we can’t bring home something nice?”

“You’re sweet, Spaghetti but I don’t think I’m in the mood for card tricks.” Richie sighed as they made their way to the elevator. 

As it opened a woman made her way out, yelling as her suitcase opened up right in the lobby. As Eddie knelt to gather the things, the woman frankly apologized, only to fall right into Richie, who caught her before she hit the ground. 

“I’m sorry. I am so sorry!” She said, scrambling to straighten herself. She knelt beside Eddie, grabbing everything she could to zip up the suitcase again before hurrying up and out of the door. 

Eddie and Richie exchanged looks, commenting about the scattered brained woman before attempting to catch the next elevator. Richie watched the numbers tick by, shoving his hands into his pockets to keep busy until the elevator made it to the lobby. 

He paused frantically, the lack of his wallet sending a shiver down his spine. Without a word of explanation, Richie took off the hotel doors and off into the street. Halfway down he spotted her; redhead with the plain colored sundress. He grabbed her, pulling her off to the side of the street until Eddie returned. 

“Rich, you can’t just feel up a woman in broad daylight. That shit has to be illegal.” Eddie wearied, his eyes widening as Richie showed off his wallet, which he had taken right out of the woman’s handbag. 

They wound up dragging her back into the hotel, with Eddie pushing a chair into a far corner and Richie shoving her down to sit in it. They stood in front of her, blocking off any chance for her to be able to run. 

“You know, I gotta say I’m kind of impressed,” Richie mentioned, his arms crossing over his chest firmly. 

He didn’t know if they were doing the good cop/bad cop deal. If so, which one was he? Good? Could Eddie be bad? He was scowling, but he didn’t look threatening. Richie tried to look threatening. He wondered if it worked. 

“Bunny being all coy while picking the pockets of unexpected men. You do this often?” 

“Often enough.” She answered. 

“Give us a reason to not call the cops on you,” Eddie said sternly. 

The redhead leaned back, crossing her legs slowly. The hem of her dress moved upwards, revealing a bit of skin, though neither man budged. Richie looked over to his partner, giving off the impression that he was unimpressed by the woman’s attempt to be cheeky, but to also make sure Eddie wasn’t letting it work.

The scowl remained on his face and it was enough for the redhead to realize he was barking up the wrong tree. 

So she went on a different route. 

“He has a fake idea in his wallet.” She said. “You called him Rich. I only looked real quick, but the ID in there says his name is Patrick Hotchsetter. So either you’re going by a fake name for some undisclosed reason or you have a falsey, which would be pointless since you’re well over the legal drinking age.” 

Eddie groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

The fake ID had been one of Richie’s original scams. His buddy Bill could write up anything, make just about anything in his printing shop. All they needed was a name and they could make it work. Patrick Hotchsetter was a bastard of a man who took advantage of unsuspected people. More so than Eddie and Richie ever could. He was a goon for Henry Bowers, who liked to hurt people just for the fun of it. 

Richie figured so long as he was careful, using Patrick's name was good and clear. It was Richie’s face, but Patrick’s name, meaning if anything went wrong, the blame would fall on Hotchsetter. 

“Either way, I’m sure the police will be interested in finding out. Do you want to call them or should I?” The redhead went on to say. 

“She’s good,” Richie mentioned to Eddie. 

“She is. But she could be better.” Eddie responded. 

“You know I can hear you right?” 

The two exchanged a look, one that was all too familiar to Richie. He turned back, smiling brightly. “We have a proposition.” 

“But first,” Eddie held his hand out, his fingers bending down in a ‘gimme’ motion. The redhead sighed, going into her purse to pull out the watch she had snatched off his wrist. She handed it over, huffing when he made the motion again. “His too.” 

She went back into her bag, grabbing the second watch which she slapped into Eddie’s hand, who promptly handed it over to Richie. 

“Oh, she’s _real_ good.” 

And just like that, Richie was satisfied again. With Beverly by their side, they were opening the door to a whole new world of cons. She was good with her hands, a smart pickpocketer who could use her beauty and wits to take things off of prey of choice. 

Of course, she was just doing this off the street or in places that would let her in such as hotels, and parks, and some bars. But with the guys, she was able to widen her horizons. 

With Richie, he’d bring her down to all the clubs with the velvet ropes that only allowed those whose names were on the list. And thanks to Bill’s printing kills, Richie could have any name they wanted. They’d sit at a table, open up a charge to some wealthy joe-schmo who would never set foot in a place like this and just let the tab roll on, all the while Beverly would hit the dance floor, dancing with any guy who had something she could take. 

They’d go home with chains, watches, and wallets. They took what they could, never wanting to leave a paper trail. Never go to the same club twice during the same month. They had to be smart about it after all. 

It was their way of having some fun, but it was with Eddie that they got the real good shit. Eddie still had his connections to the business world and sometimes would go out to lunch or dinner with a handful of friends. Now and then he’d take Beverly with him. He’d put his arm around her, showing her off with the low cut dressed they got her to wear. 

All of which were from the old folks home, also known as the gift that just kept giving. Richie would bring her along, letting Beverly flirt with the old widowers who just wanted to feel young again or sometimes play her off as his kid sister who liked to give the ladies her attention so they could talk about what they did at her age. 

Beverly would go on and on about how much she loved the style of the decades before and before they knew it, they were given trunks full of vintage clothing. They’d sell most of it but anything Beverly thought she could fix up, they kept. She was good with her hands, having worked as a seamstress before giving it all up to work with them. 

She would tell them all about her clients. How one would get so drunk she could barely stand during her fitting or how another once had Beverly sew actual diamonds into the corset of her gown. 

Beverly, who had a worse upbringing than either of the men, held a small hatred towards the rich and looked at their scamming as just leveling the playing field. 

With the outfits she would make, she’d hit the town with Eddie, who still wore the expensive suits and showed off his nice watch and car when he needed to. She’d laugh and flirt, playing whatever part she needed to, whether it be the dimwitted girl with the perky breast or the shy newcomer at the table. 

The older men liked her the most, which worked for them because they always had the heaviest wallets. Only once did things turn sour when Beverly ended up in a hotel with one of the guys. Normally she’d get them drunk enough to fall asleep, but this guy just didn’t go down. It wasn’t until he was on top of her that she had to fight him off. 

She wound up hitting him over the head with a champagne bottle, knocking him unconscious. She called the guys up, letting them handle it. 

“Geez Bevvy, we knew you liked it rough, but this is a bit of an overkill,” Richie commented, ignoring Eddie’s glare as they pulled Keene back onto the bed. 

They rummaged through his room, taking anything they could. The pervert was a retired pharmacist and they made good by going through his selected stash of pills. Richie already had dollar signs rolling in his eyes as he thought about how much they’d make off them. 

Richie wasn’t a drug dealer and he never would be, but he also understood that those who do peddle this shit need to have a way to get it. It was just second hand, baby. A way to pass it off to those who could give it to the people who craved it. 

They left the poor bastard with a note, thanking him for the good time. Beverly signed it and sealed it with a lipstick marked kiss. They hoped he would wake in the morning thinking he went to bed with a bad hangout after getting lucky with a woman half his age. 

Things had been going well after that, but that tickling feeling in the back of Richie’s throat began to resurface. The three of them had a good thing going and the business at the Clubhouse was doing pretty well now that they hired Mike to be their full-time bartender. 

He’d work the tables and then find the poor bastard that needed a drink and slip them their card. They’d take their winnings or whatever they had left and waste it all on watered-down bullshit and hope a pretty gal like Bev would pay them some mind. 

But still, he wanted more. Maybe he was just greedy, but at least he wasn’t alone in this. Beverly wanted more too. 

She was tired of the Nevada lifestyle. She wanted to go somewhere by the ocean. “I’ve never been on vacation before. Never been to Disney or even a beach.” She confided in them after one night where their winnings were low. 

They were all talking about what they could be doing if they just had one big hit. One final big bang and they could all retire somewhere pretty. 

That’s when they realized what they needed to do. 

Find one guy. The perfect guy. One that had enough money for them to be able to walk away with more than they had ever imagined. It wouldn’t be easy. You can’t just case someone for a million bucks and walk away unscathed. Oh no. They had to work on this one. 

It seemed like Lady Luck had finally begun to turn their way, however. They found their guy soon enough in the form of one Bob Gray. He was a former carney who got it big with the traveling freak show before putting all his money into the tobacco industry and didn’t give a shit about the side effects of his products. It wouldn’t be easy, as the guy seemed downright unlikable, but they’d do whatever they had to to get their cash in. 

They had it all planned out. Beverly was applying for a job as a drink tray girl at the casino. She’d work her way into his room in her skimpy outfit and used her charm to work her way into his life, preferably in another skimpy outfit. Richie had been keeping a keen eye on the skinny bastard, not realizing that their stakeout was being intercepted by Henry Bowers and his gang. 

They were in public, so it wasn’t like they could have an all-out brawl, but Henry made it very clear he was onto Richie for whatever he thought he was doing. Eddie tried to intervene because that’s just how he was. He knew Bowers was trouble, but he never hesitated to put himself into harm's way if it meant protecting Richie. Because of this, Eddie wound up getting shoved down the flight of stairs in the process. 

It was a whole show, garnering more attention than any of them wanted. The Bowers gang flew out of sight, leaving Richie to hurry down after Eddie. Beverly followed, only to trip over those stupid fucking heels they made the women wear. She was grabbed before hitting the ground, caught in the arms of a helpful stranger. 

They took Eddie to the nearest hospital, who deemed his arm as broken. They put a cast on him, as well as a sling before handing over the bill of their services. 

“Almost a thousand bucks for a broken arm? How the fuck are we supposed to afford that?” Richie snapped, pacing in their hotel room. 

With Eddie no longer having that big-time Wall Street job, he was out of his health insurance. Both of them had been pretty healthy until that point and had no real reason to apply for anything that would have any ties onto them. They didn’t even have credit cards. They kept a low profile. As low as can be. 

“We’ll just have to pay it, Rich. What choice do we have?” Eddie grumbled, trying his best to open up the bottle of painkillers the hospital had given him.

“What if we skip out? They can’t charge us if they can’t find us.” 

“And they will find you. They always do.” Beverly reminded them. 

"Fucking American health care system, man. It's fucking bogus!"

There was a knock then on the door. Beverly walked over, answering it and stepping aside for the stranger from earlier to make his way in. “I hope I’m not intruding. The manager at the casino told me I could find you here.” He spoke kindly. He looked around, realizing Beverly wasn’t alone. “Hi. Ben Hanscom.” 

“You’re the fella that saved Bev’s neck before,” Richie commented. 

Ben blushed, lifting his hand to wave him off. “It was just good timing is all. I wanted to apologize for what happened to you.”

“Not like you pushed him down the stairs.” Richie scoffed, going to sit against the arm of the couch. 

“No, but it’s still a horrific incident. And your ankle is all right?” 

Beverly lifted her leg, rotating her ankle in a circular motion. “I think I’ll have to retire my drink tray, but I’ll survive.” 

“If there is anything I can do to help, just let me know.” 

“You know any good lawyers? The only way we’ll be paying this medical bill issuing the place.” Richie tossed the bill down onto the coffee table, glancing at Eddie who was rubbing his knee comfortingly as if he wasn’t the one currently medicated. 

“Oh, there’s no need for that. I’ll cover it.” Ben replied simply. 

The three of them cocked his heads, both curious and confused. “Why would you do that?” Eddie asked blankly. 

“Well, I own the building. If you were going to sue, you’d be suing me. I’d rather not deal with that, even if my lawyers would wipe the floor with you.” He laughed then, clearing his throat as he took the bill off the table. “No, but really, I’ll have this paid off by tomorrow. No worries.” 

And just like that, they were back on. After some digging they found their mystery man Ben Hanscom to be pretty popular in town. 

“He’s a fucking architect,” Richie said, slapping the article he had gotten down between the three of them. “His company built half of the newer buildings on the strip. And he owns nearly a dozen of them!” 

“He’s a millionaire,” Beverly concluded. 

“Fuck that, this guy is on his way to being a billionaire!” 

“Didn’t he ask you out for coffee?” Eddie asked, narrowing his eyes at the redhead across the way. 

Ben might not have been their original target, but he turned out to be far better than any of them could have imagined. Beverly accepted the invitation for coffee, learning whatever she could in the small-time they had in between Ben’s meetings. He came and went from Vegas to New York where his office was. He was single, had a penthouse in Vegas and New York and a house in California, right on the water. 

Beverly returned that afternoon telling the guys all about their little date, finally ending it with saying he wanted to go for dinner. 

“Bev, this is more than we had ever imagined. If you get it in with this guy, we’re set.” Richie reminded her. “Let him wine and dine you. Enjoy the good parts of it while Eddie and I handle the hard shit.” 

“Richie, I don’t know about this,” Beverly mentioned quietly. “This is getting involved. I thought you said we shouldn’t get involved with any of the people we con.” 

“She has a point, Rich,” Eddie mentioned carefully. “This could all blow up in our faces.” 

“Oh come on! It will be easy. Just be nice and keep him on the hook, all right?” 

It shouldn’t have been as easy as it was. Ben came off as a decent cat who seemed genuinely interested in Beverly. She quit her job as the drink tray girl, though she was quickly back to working after Ben offered her a job in his own office.

They had expected Bev to come in, yapping about the little skirts she’d have to wear and how Ben wanted her to bring his lunch at this specific time and to always wear her blouses buttoned just so. Instead, it turned out she was working his books, answering phone calls and wearing whatever it was she wanted so long as she was comfortable and professional. 

He didn’t flirt with her while they worked and didn’t make any passes or touches. He even fired a lower level associate who made a sly comment right in front of her. 

Beverly had told him that Eddie and Richie weren’t actually her brothers, but just her friends. They were the closest thing she had to family and regarded them as such. She stayed in the same hotel suite, with them each altering who slept were just to make it fair on them all, though that just didn’t sit well in Ben’s books. 

He was an architect for Christ's sake! He designed buildings and owned countless apartments for a living. After about a month or so of going to dinner and grabbing coffee, he offered her a place of his own. She tried to decline, but when he offered the same for Eddie and Richie, Beverly found it hard to turn down. 

They each got a room with a view to calling their own, a place where they could leave their stuff and not have to worry about hiding anything from the cleaning crew. Ben did it free of charge since the building they’d be staying in wasn’t open to the public just yet. 

It was becoming very clear to all of them that Ben was a good man. 

And yet the con was still on. 

They went back and forth on what they wanted to do, how much they wanted to take. Beverly did the books, she knew how much he was worth. Eddie had suggested that they follow Stan’s influence and just take a little at a time. Not enough that would be noticed at first glance until they had enough, but Richie wanted more. 

“Bevvy, baby. If you marry this guy do you know what you’ll be worth?” Richie mentioned as they sat in the backroom of Clubhouse. 

It was the one place they knew they were safe. Despite selling lame booze and dry food, it was a clean business. 

“And if he makes her sign a prenup?” Eddie challenged. 

“Ah, come on! The guy is crazy for her! Look! She’s dripping in ice and he bought her a new pad without her even asking!” 

“This was a birthday present,” Beverly argued, clutching the necklace that Ben had given her just a few nights ago. “He doesn’t spoil me like that, Richie. He doesn’t show off his money like the guys Eddie used to work with.”

“Because he doesn’t have to! You’ve seen his accounts. You know how thick his wallet is. All I am saying is that if you play your cards right, we could all make it big.” 

“So what? They get married and then she just divorces him out of the blue? The system doesn’t work like that.” Eddie argued. 

“It is if the judge is in her favor. Imagine this! Sweet little Beverly Marsh -- now Hanscom, comes home to her new husband only to find him in bed with another woman. Think of the scandal! Think of the heartache. She brings it to court, a couple of crocodile tears later. Bada-bing, bada-boom, Beverly has half his net worth and that beautiful house on the coast she wanted so badly.”

“Ben would never cheat on me,” Beverly said confidently. “He’s not like the other guys. He’s not like my dad or Tom. He’s different.” 

Both Richie and Eddie were aware of the life Beverly had before them. She faced all sorts of abuse by the hands of her father and ex-husband. The only reason Beverly even escaped from the bastard had been because they caught word of him in the obituaries after being dragged down to the sewers by some loan sharks he couldn’t avoid. 

If anybody deserved to be treated right, it was Beverly, but Richie firmly believed that she could find that while poolside at a villa in Italy and not from the hand of a lover. 

“So we’d fake it! We’ll get Greta, or Audra, or even Patty to flirt with him. And if he doesn’t bite, we’ll knock him out and stage the whole scene.” 

“Come on, Rich. That’s being a bit dramatic.” Eddie admitted. 

“I can’t believe you’re getting so worked up over some guy!” Richie mentioned, his hands falling to his hips. 

Beverly scoffed, rising from her seat to pace the room. “This one is different!” She argued. “He’s honest, and he’s sweet.” 

Richie rolled his eyes lamely. “Please,” 

“He would never do anything to hurt me.” 

“He’s a guy!” Richie concluded. “All guys think the same, sweet cheeks. It’s just different plumping for some.” 

“How do you know he’d even propose?” Beverly fired back. “We haven’t even slept together Rich. For all you know, he’s just keeping busy until somebody better comes along.” 

“See? This is what I kept saying to Eddie.” Richie moved around the desk, moving into Beverly’s personal space. “You’re good at the con, Bevvy babe, but the only person you haven’t been able to fool is yourself. You still think you’re this low price street girl who doesn’t deserve a dime. When are you gonna open those big green eyes and see the big picture?” 

“And what is the big picture, Richie?” 

“That people like us? We do what we do because we deserve the fucking world. The world just didn’t get the memo. Now your Benny boy might be as honorable as a fucking boy scout but he didn’t have to work like we do. He got lucky. He’s got talent. Well, we got talent too.” 

“Richie,” Eddie spoke up, but the other man refused to relent. 

“Think of everything we’ve done. Think of everything we’ve planned. Are you gonna let that blow up in smoke because of a cut jawline and the promise of tomorrow? That pretty picture we painted for our future? It didn’t come in the form of prince charming, Bev. Ben isn’t your happy ending. He’s just the guy pathing the way with the bills he uses with his fancy houses.” 

“Enough, Rich,” Eddie called out. “It’s been a long day. Let’s talk about this tomorrow, all right?”

“You got a date tonight. I suggest you wear the green dress. Ben says he likes you in green.” 

Rich didn’t care if he was pushing too hard or coming off like a manipulative prick. He knew Beverly was stronger than this and he refused to allow her to back down just because she happened to pick a target that wasn’t a collective asshole. 

Just because somebody was nice that didn’t mean they didn’t deserve to be extorted for everything they had. Even the broads in the retirement home or the stockbrokers along the strip. If you had the money, chances were you were gonna lose it one way or another. Was Richie really in the world for wanting to benefit from it? 

Things had gotten more involved for Ben and Beverly. It was quite obvious that Ben was utterly smitten by Bev for all different reasons. She didn’t outwardly show interest in his money, something that was rare for the handsome guy who was worth a lot. 

This wasn’t part of the plan, at least not originally. Beverly had always been used to the rich guys that she duped trying to show off what they could do for her. Buy her new things or pass along their credit card so they could be her sugar daddy. 

Ben wasn’t like that. 

Sure, he offered to buy her something if she mentioned needing it or if they walked past a store and something caught her eye, he would take her inside and let her try whatever it was on, but it was never a bragging point. 

He wasn’t trying to buy Beverly. They would have actual conversations while they were on their lunch break or they’d take a walk down the strip. His own home life hadn’t been ideal with his military father dying overseas and his mother losing interest in their family once he was gone. He had weight issues before college and was bullied a lot. He was a soft-spoken guy who just wanted to do good in the world. 

He would compliment her on the skills she shared with him, like her dream of one day designing clothing and having a boutique of her own. He believed in her, in ways that Beverly had never experienced before outside of Eddie and Richie. Ben was nothing like anything Beverly had ever experienced before. 

Sure, he’d take her to fancy restaurants where the prices weren’t on the menu and always show up in a different car, but that was just his style. They had smaller dates too, some in the apartment that he had given her or his estate. He’d cook for her or read her poetry. He even wrote her a poem that, although nothing to be compared to the likes of Poe or Frost or Whitman, was the kindest thing Beverly had ever received. 

So it was quite obvious that Beverly had fallen in love with Ben just as Ben had fallen in love with her. 

But love had never been a part of the plan. 

Then again, it had never been a part of the plan for Richie either. 

Richie honestly didn’t know how he and Eddie transitioned from partners in crime to partners in everything else. Eddie had confided in him about his divorce from years prior. He listed a series of reasons as to why the marriage didn’t work. It was mostly to please his mother. He and his wife didn’t get along. 

Myra had been overbearing and rude. She always made him feel small and weak. His job wasn’t what he wanted, his life wasn’t what he wanted. When he finally got out, he found himself alone, but he was good. 

And then he met Richie and he was even better. 

Richie had always known what he liked. Always knew he’d never be like the other guys. He’d look at women on the strip in their pretty outfits and faces all dolled up and it did nothing for him. And then he’d see some other fellas and suddenly his brain would be doing flips and he found himself all nervous. 

He was never nervous around Eddie. Everything just seemed to click for them. 

Sure they fought now and then, and Eddie would never have an issue calling Richie out on his moronic scheme, but he never gave up on him. There had been some obvious flirting right in the beginning, but actually moving in on being physical, breaking that barrier, well Richie still isn't too sure how it happened. Seeing him in those clothes, holding his head up high and being so fucking confident. God, there was nothing sexier. And somehow, Eddie thought the same for him. 

They’d never fool around when Beverly was around, but that was out of being polite. When they lived in the suite, they’d all swap who got the bed, usually, it was two at a time because the bed was large enough to fit two while the other would stay on the couch, but sleeping was different than not sleeping. 

They’d touch each other, sure but innocently. A hand on the thigh or an arm around the shoulders behind closed doors while in the presence of someone they knew and trusted was different. Then again, Richie wasn’t trying to act like he was hiding a thing. 

He wouldn’t kiss Eddie in public, but he also knew the chances of someone beating the shit out of them was far too high, but he didn’t pretend like they weren’t together. They sat beside each other every chance they got and sometimes Rich would put his arm around Eddie’s chair as casually as possible. 

There were a few clubs they could go to that felt safe enough for them to be open. Late at night when the lights were low and changing colors obnoxiously, and the loud disco music boomed overhead, he would allow himself to be dragged onto the dance floor by his boyfriend. 

They used to do it often. They’d dance and enjoy themselves while Beverly would take whatever she could off the poor, unexpecting sleazeball with wedding rings that would try to get lucky while their wives were at home. 

And sometimes they’d even do the same, with one of them dancing with Beverly while the other hit up some rich broad with too many jewels on or a dress that was just too low cut. Richie may not have been straight, but he could play the part well enough. At least on the dance floor. 

Those nights were some of Richie’s fondest memories. When he was on the dance floor with Eddie, their bodies pressed together as the music practically bounced off the wall. And for a few short moments, those songs were Richie’s favorite sound in the whole world. 

Now, throughout all their cons, if there was one person Richie was serious with, aside from Beverly, it was Eddie. They did everything together and they were in on everything together. They could wrangle some diamonds from a crook or scam some moron out of a couple of hundred dollars, but he would never do the same to the guy he loved. 

When their anniversary came around, Richie would always be as honest as he could be. Every trinket he got for the guy came out of his pocket. He never gave Eddie anything stolen. When he walked into the apartment they shared with flowers in his hand, they weren’t ripped from someone’s garden or stolen from a grocery store. They were purchased from a florist after a long conversation on what kind to get. 

He settled on buttercups because roses were overrated and Nevada’s state flower wasn’t even a flower, to begin with. He walked inside, hiding the flowers behind his back when he saw Eddie was on the phone. He ended the conversation, smiling once the taller male made the reveal. 

“You’re a fucking sap, you know that?”

“And you’re a sucker for falling for me.”

Eddie took the flowers, holding them up to his nose to breathe in the gentle smell before going to the kitchen to put them in a vase. Richie followed, going to lean over the island as he watched him work. “Gonna let me take you out tonight?” 

“Is that the plan?” Eddie asked, turning away from the sink, water-filled vase in hand. 

“You're finally out of the cast! We have to celebrate.” 

It had been three months since Eddie was pushed down the stairs. Three months of him having to wear that ridiculous cast. Of course, they made the most of it, with Richie doodling on the hard plaster and he, Beverly, and even Ben signing it. 

It was hard to get dressed and even harder to take a shower, but Richie made it better by basically being his right hand for as long as he needed. 

“Baby, you know I am more than happy to continue stroking your pistol, but I’m a needy man. I like being held when we do the horizontal tango.” 

“Says the man who said my broken arm was a gift in disguise because it gave you an excuse to ride me like a stallion and to also bend me over the back of the couch because it would be more comfortable for me.” 

“First off, I said all that during a moment of passion. And two, I thought you liked when I did those things?” 

“Do I like you riding me? Of course. Do I like being bent over things as you fuck me deeply? Also yes.” 

“Then enough complaining. Get that ass in gear and go make yourself look pretty for me. We’re gonna have some fun.” 

Richie lifted his leg, kicking Eddie’s backside to push him towards their bedroom. Shortly after they were dressed and ready, heading out towards the restaurant of Richie’s choice. Eddie drove because even despite being disgustingly in love, there was no way he’d willingly allow Richie to drive the Camaro. Even with a broken arm. 

His arm was fine now and they were back to normal, ready to celebrate their anniversary properly. Richie’s main plan was just to take Eddie out to dinner. They’d eat until they were full and drink overly expensive with names Richie couldn’t even pronounce. 

After that, they’d do whatever Eddie wanted. They could go to the clubs and dance until the sun came up. They could crash at home and spend the night doing some dancing of their own. Richie would do whatever he wanted. Whatever made Eddie happy. 

Richie had Eddie’s gift in his pocket, shoved down deep as he waited for the right moment. They were near the end of their meal when he caught sight of the familiar redhead across the way. Beverly hadn’t mentioned going out with Ben, but she had a life of her own and saw her boyfriend whenever she wanted. 

After paying the bill, they went over to the table just to say their hellos. Ben had more or less known about them by this point. Richie didn’t know if Beverly ever told him about them, but they didn’t outwardly admit it, but they also didn’t hide it. 

When Ben offered them the apartments, they were each given one but didn’t bat an eye when Richie moved all his things into the one Eddie had chosen. 

“And here I thought you two ate at home these days?” Richie teased. 

Beverly smiled shyly, looking down at her crumpled napkin on her lap. Ben reached out, taking her hand in his own, squeezing it gently. “We do yes, but we’re having a bit of a celebration tonight.” 

“Oh?” 

“I got an offer I couldn’t refuse coming in and have to head back to New York for a few months. Beverly here agreed to go with me.” 

Richie raised a brow, looking back to the redhead who was still avoiding his gaze. “Did she now? Well, how ‘bout that?” 

“We’re about to have drinks. Care to join us?”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s arm, tugging it slightly. “We don’t want to intrude.” 

“No, no! Let’s sit. Let’s drink.” 

Richie plopped himself down at the table, grabbing a bottle to pour himself a glass. They spoke back and forth, with Ben telling the guys all about the New York project. It sounded like a dream come true, but Richie wasn’t dumb to think things for them wouldn’t change drastically. 

As they waited for the valet, Richie cornered Beverly after she exited the bathroom. 

“Are you kidding me? Are you fucking kidding me, Beverly?” He hissed out quietly. “This has gone on for too fucking long!” 

“You’re right, Rich. It has. The jig is up. Whatever plan we had been working on is finished.” 

“What the fuck does that mean?” 

“It means that I’m going to New York with Ben. I’m done playing these games, I’m done lying to him and taking his money. It’s over, Richie.” 

“It’s over? You listen here! You were a measly pickpocket until I came around.”

“You weren't at the top of the chart before me either, Richie. You were fingering little old ladies until we began working together.” 

“And yet I still came out smelling like a rose. Can that be said the same for you miss Sticky Fingers? Look at you? Draped in jewels, wearing fur coats. I made you!”

Beverly slapped him then, straight across the face. His glasses flew to the floor and while it stung like hell, Richie wasn’t cruel enough to do the same to her. “I ain't your fucking dad, Bev. I ain't your ex. I’m not gonna hit you. But you keep this in mind: you don’t walk out on the family. And for a damn good while, Eddie and I were just that to you. Fucking family.” 

“Is everything all right?” Ben asked, approaching carefully. “The car is here.” 

“We’re fine.” Richie sniffled, scooping his glasses off the floor and straightening out his mustache before slipping away from the couple. 

The rest of the night was spent at their apartment, with Eddie sitting on the couch listening to Richie drone on and on about their situation. With Ben gone, they’d lose everything. The apartment, his connections. Beverly would make out like a fucking bandit and they would be right back to where they first started. Slipping on floors to get free hotel rooms and flirting with the elderly just to be able to get by. 

“Richie. Stop. Now.” Eddie told him after a while. “I don’t . . . I just don’t care anymore.” 

“The fuck you mean you don’t care? She’s gonna ruin us?” 

“She’s happy, Rich! Let her fucking be happy.” 

“So what, she can throw us away just for her own fifteen minutes of joy? You don’t think he won’t toss her away like everybody else?” 

“No, I don’t,” Eddie admitted. “He loves her, Rich. They’re good together. I know it’s hard to see her be happy with somebody other than us. I know it’s hard to see that this life we’ve built with each other, but it’s not a little girl, Rich. If she wants to go, we can’t keep her here.” 

“How are you okay with this?” How could Eddie possibly be okay with her just walking away from everything? All the cons they had done, the literal empire they had built. 

Eddie just shrugged. Like it was as simple as that. “I love her.” He replied. “I want her to be happy. And I love you too. And I want you to be happy too. I thought we could have been happy together, but. Maybe I was wrong.” 

Eddie went to bed after that, without a kiss or without the sex that had been promised. Richie followed soon after, sitting up in their bed, his thumb opening and closing the box to the ring he had planned on giving Eddie at some point that night. 

Same-sex marriage wasn’t a possibility for them just yet, but an engagement was still welcome. It was still possible. 

He left the ring on Eddie’s bedside that night, kissing his head as he left the apartment. He went to Ben’s office early that morning, ready to tell him everything. He was going to pour his heart out to the guy and tell him that his beloved Beverly was lying to him this whole time. 

It was petty and cruel, but so was life. 

But by the time he got into the office and he saw the picture he had of Ben and Beverly on his desk, Richie knew he couldn’t go through with it. When he opened his mouth, all he could think of was the happy life these two people could have. 

Just like the happy life, he could have with Eddie, but probably never would. 

And no matter how much Richie hated the unfairness of this life, he’d never want to cheat someone out of a happy life. 

“I’m just glad that Beverly met you.” He told him somberly. “I know you’ll take care of her.” 

“I plan to, Richie. I promise.” 

He left after that, going for a walk along the strip. He thought about going inside and blowing all the money he had in his pocket but instead made his way back into the apartment, finding Eddie there waiting for him. 

Eddie held up the ring box Richie had left behind, the ring still sitting inside of him. “You forgot to ask me,” 

Richie took the ring box, pulling the white gold ring out. He twisted it around his pinky, smiling at the inscription that he had paid extra for. It was very rare Richie never paid for anything out of pocket, especially for jewelry. He could find something better in a pawn shop or snag it off some widower at the home. 

It wasn’t the plain silver band that Eddie had with his wife, which he had stopped wearing the moment the two of them got physical. He had this ring made specifically for Eddie, with the beautiful carvings and the letterings on the inside made just for them. 

_R+E_. 

Richie and Eddie. Just them. Always. 

He held it out to Eddie, a small but meaningful offering. “Marry me?” He offered slightly.

“Don’t think we can legally do that, Rich.” 

“Exactly. It would be the con of the century.” 

Eddie laughed then, smiling that stupidly bright smile that he had whenever Richie came up with another scheme. 

He took the ring and slipped it onto his finger. It fits because Richie made sure it fit. And he pulled Richie in, pressing their lips together without another thought. 

The day Beverly left was hard on all of them, but it had to come eventually. All the anger from their last interaction had melted away and Richie couldn’t have been happier for her as Ben packed their bags for the drive to the airport. 

She hugged them both tightly, promising to call as soon as possible. They’d get together again soon, once they settled in their penthouse. Richie knew she’d call, that they would see her again soon. As Richie said, you don’t walk away from family. 

“I almost forgot,” Ben mentioned after their hugs and kisses. “With Beverly being gone, I thought you two might grow a little bored so I was hoping to give you a business office. I have some friends down in California. We’re building some condominiums down there and could use a couple of guys to take care of them.” 

“Information is in your trunk,” Beverly added, pulling Ben’s hand before getting into the car. 

Confused, Eddie lifted the trunk of the Camero, finding not only a pamphlet but the old trunk that Beverly used to keep her clothing in. Except instead of old dresses, it was money. 

Lots and lots of money. More money than Richie had ever seen at one time.

Richie took the pamphlet, skimming through it curiously. “What’s a timeshare?” He asked, passing the paper off to Eddie so he could look through the enormous amount of money. 

Eddie closed the trunk then, dangling the keys to the car in front of Richie. “How about a drive?” 

Richie beamed then, tugging Eddie into him for a deep kiss. He didn’t care if people saw. Didn’t give a fuck if the world crashed down because two men were making out on the strip of Las Vegas. 

He got into the car then, behind the driver's seat for the first time. He put the top down, put his arm around the man he loved, and drove off into the sunset, ready for their next adventure.

**Author's Note:**

> Slightly inspired by Heartbreakers. 
> 
> The title comes from I Feel Love by Sam Smith.
> 
> Moodboard made by the lovely AHardLifee!


End file.
